


Irrational Fear

by OnlyFoxMulder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 11, fears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-11-28 05:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20961554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyFoxMulder/pseuds/OnlyFoxMulder
Summary: Scully shares something with Mulder one night after a case. Set sometime during S6 (after The Rain King) before their intimate relationship began.Updated with chapter two!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I’m still writing. I intended my last post to be my final story, but I can’t help but want to write. So I’m just going to go ahead with my muse and see where it takes me. 
> 
> Shout out to @icannotjustify on twitter for her continued support and pushing me to write more when I said I was finished. 💕
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Dana Scully jerked awake when the power fizzled out with a pop. The almost imperceptible hum ceased, alerting her subconscious to the unwelcomed change. 

While she waited for her eyes to adjust to the abrupt darkness, her other senses took over in kind: the scratchy sheets gliding along her legs, lumpy pillow beneath her head, and the nervous flutter settling in her belly. And without the cool breeze from the air conditioner, humidity crept back into the room, causing a sheen of sweat to form across her cheeks. 

The calm was disturbed by a swift burst of rain whipping against the thin hotel walls, breaking the silence. She could feel the increased electricity in the air, the tingling sensation in her scalp spreading to her toes. 

_ Relax, Dana. Just relax. It’s only rain. _

She grimaced when her feet touched the worn rug, cursing herself yet again. The no-name hotels they frequented were never five-star establishments and she never failed to forget to pack a cheap pair of flip-flops for places like this one. _ Too late now. _

The room was pitch dark, only adding to her unease, as she padded towards the sole window and peered out into the waterlogged parking lot. Not much could be seen at this time of night and in combination with the lack of artificial light, she could only make out the faint outline of the rental car, along with three vehicles in the lot. The main office appeared to have a small generator in the event of an outage because a dim glow could be seen just beyond the glass.

As she went to step away and close the drapes, a streak of lightning touched the ground in the distance, illuminating the sky for the briefest of seconds before the landscape fell dark once more. Her pulse jumped and her breath quickened. 

With the cobwebs of sleep wiped away, she was wired. Storms did that to her, made her restless and uncomfortable until they passed. The Agent and scientist in her wanted to shake herself for the foolish reaction to the weather. She’d experienced enough of them in her time. Childish fears shouldn’t cross over into adulthood. 

_ It’s only a storm. It’ll pass. It’s only a storm. _

Her inner mantra would normally quell the jitters enough so she could fall back asleep but that wasn’t happening tonight. She was too edgy from the unfamiliar surroundings. With her laptop out of power, no television and no way of reading, she only had the possibility of sleep to occupy herself until morning.

Her limbs barely had the chance to relax when chunks of hail began, pounding against the roof. She turned away from the window and covered her head with a pillow, trying in vain to block the noise. _ How was Mulder still asleep? _

Her partner, a man with perpetual insomnia, somehow managed to sleep like a rock once his brain finally shut down. She had years of familiarity with his habits to know how difficult it could be to wake him when danger passed and a case was completed. She often had to shake him when their plane landed or during the rare car rides where he dozed in the passenger seat as she drove. He was cute in those rare moments of peace, when he let his guard down: rumpled hair, even breaths escaping his parted lips, the sleepy smile he gave her upon waking—it was cute. 

The rain pummeled the window even harder, followed by the first audible clap of thunder. The crackling sound shook her to the core. Past memories flashed before her and she found herself seeking the comfort only one person could bring her.

_ Mulder. _

Gathering the courage was difficult. Part of her was afraid of his reaction—afraid of exposing a weakness. Men in her past weren’t very accepting of vulnerability, from her father and brother, to numerous ex-lovers. It left a permanent flaw in her personality and she struggled to open up to anyone other than her mother. While her brain knew Mulder would never intentionally belittle her, she still maintained heavily fortified walls around her heart. 

Another rumble startled her up and out of bed. Without much thought, she shuffled to the adjoining door and leaned against the doorframe. As suspected, he was still fast asleep, sprawled haphazardly among the bedding. Even in shadow, his tanned skin stood out in stark contrast to the white sheets. His feet were peaking out at the foot of the bed and his head was tilted in her direction, breathing deep and even. In that moment, she regretted her decision to disrupt him and was about to turn her back to hide under her own covers.

“Scully?” His voice was low and husky. “Is something wrong?” 

Another slash of lightning lit up the room, highlighting the concern in his expression. She stumbled for words, mouth opening and closing. He sat up in bed, bracing his weight on his shoulders. She noted the bare chest and patch sparse hair at the center. He looked so warm and inviting, she suddenly didn’t feel so guilty.

“I, um, couldn’t sleep… the storm…,” she paused, eyes fixated on the frayed carpet. “The power went out and I haven’t been able to fall back asleep. I’m sorry… for waking you.”

He waved his hand dismissively and sat against the headboard. “Don’t worry about it. Want to sit in here awhile?” 

The spot he vacated looked soft and rumpled and so inviting, she couldn’t resist. With a nod, she tentatively crawled next to him, mirroring his position with her back against the wood. She stole a glance in his direction, thankful for the locks of hair shielding her face. Mulder studied her intently, eyes roaming what he could see through the hair in his way. His expression was a mix of concern and reverence. He was always giving her these tender gazes filled with adoration and longing. Without speaking, he made her feel special—like she was his purpose for moving forward, his reason for being. It was overwhelming and thrilling. She wondered if he had any idea what his attention did to her, how much she reveled in those gazes.

“Is everything okay?” Thunder punctuated his question, louder this time and directly overhead.

When she failed to answer, he reached out and curled an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “Talk to me, Scully.”

She acquiesced, sighing tremulously. She was the one who came to him _ and _accepted the support he offered. The least she could do was explain her unusual behavior. This was a first for them though; she never woke him up for any reason other than an emergency. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” 

“I’d never laugh at you, Scully,” he vowed, his tone earnest. “I might joke from time to time but I wouldn’t make fun of you.”

She nodded, wringing her hands in her lap. “I’m afraid of thunderstorms.” 

She eyed him suspiciously, searching for any sign of amusement but found none. He remained still, patiently waiting for her to continue. 

“I always assumed I would grow out of it… realize how silly it was, but they still make me nervous,” she whispered, plucking imaginary lint from her pajama shorts. She rarely wore anything other than satin sets while they were out of town but the stifling heat and humidity was too much—even when the rattling air conditioner was turned on full blast. The unused shorts and T-shirt, long buried in the depths of her suitcase, finally came in handy tonight.

“Did something happened to cause it?” 

She almost laughed. The psychologist and investigator in him never missed an opportunity. “Remember when I mentioned my Aunt Olive back in Kroner?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Well, my parents made us visit her every other summer until we were teenagers. We moved around a lot and weren’t able to stay in touch with family the way my mom wished and this was her way of compensating.”

Looking back, she probably shouldn’t have given her parents such a hard time. Melissa hated these forced family vacations and at the time, young Dana was fascinated by her older sister, often emulating her sour attitude. Since Melissa wasn’t a fan of her Aunt, Dana wasn’t either and dreaded the trip. 

“Anyway, her house was old and secluded. It bothered me because every noise echoed through the rooms. It was worse after dark and I usually ended up crawling into bed with my parents… my brother Bill knew that. So one night, I was probably seven or so, I ended up falling asleep on my own—until a gust of wind rattled the window and a burst of thunder shook the walls.” She trembled, the memory playing out before her as if it happened yesterday. The sounds, the dark bedroom, her brother snickering outside the door. Mulder noticed her struggle and clasped her left hand, warming it with both of his and holding it in his lap. 

“Bill had blocked the door with a chair and wouldn’t let me out. I yelled for my mom and banged on the door, hoping Bill would take pity on me or someone would hear me. My parents’ room was down at the end of the hall and they kept their door open. Bill just laughed. While his little sister cried for help,” she wavered, hand clasping his back. 

“Scully-”

“The room was tiny, only a twin-size bed, nightstand and dresser could fit. Without any city lights, it was pitch black and I was too scared to turn on the lamp. It was… suffocating.” She stopped to clear her throat. “My mom eventually came and found Bill standing in the hallway. He was punished and forced to stay inside for the remainder of the trip. I’ve never forgotten that night,” she finished, the heaviness in her chest abated. It was cathartic, she realized. She internalized the memory for so long and it was a relief to share it with someone like Mulder… someone who wouldn’t judge. 

She almost forgot about the current storm raging outside. It hadn’t dissipated at all during her story, the wind still howling away. Mulder was silent, more than likely stewing with anger. The animosity between Bill and her partner was obvious and she knew her brother was the primary cause. He wasn’t easy to befriend and often found her male companions to be undeserving. It would’ve been sweet, if not for his dominant demeanor. His intentions were to control, much like her father used to do when she was young. It was maddening.

“I know he’s your brother and I know you were kids, so I’ll be nice… Bill’s an-”

“Asshole,” she supplied, flashing him a tight-lipped smile. “He’s always been that way and still is now. I love him because he’s family but he never treated me like a sister. I check-in with him because of my nephew. If it weren’t for Matthew, we wouldn’t have much contact.”

“Does Bill know he traumatized you that night?”

She snorted. “You think I’d tell him I’m in my thirties and still scared of thunder? Because of something he did over three decades ago? He’d laugh and tell me to get over it. I hate myself for saying so but he’s right.”

He shook his head. “No, Scully, he’s not. Trauma is trauma, regardless of how insignificant it may seem. You’re human and allowed to express your fears. We all have them. I know, it goes against every instinct in your body but don’t be embarrassed over what you can’t control.”

“I _ should _be able to handle a simple thunderstorm, Mulder. It’s irrational.” 

As if the universe was laughing at her, another bolt of lightning split the sky and she fought the urge to hide. Mulder must have caught her subtle flinch because he scooted closer to her side, let go of her hand and went to slip his arm around her shoulders but froze. 

“Do you, uh, wanna lie here with me until the storm passes? We could talk some more… or I could go take the couch, let you have the bed… I’d still be close by if you needed anything. Whatever you want,” he rambled on, biting the corner of his lip. She found him pretty adorable when he was flustered.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’d like to stay here… with you. If that’s okay?” 

“Of course.”

They fumbled as they navigated this newfound closeness. It was too hot for covers, so they flung the comforter to the floor and pulled the sheet over their bodies. First, she sunk down on her back and stared at the ceiling, unsure of what to say… or do. This was strange for them—sharing a bed just because, without an excuse to fall back on. 

Mulder mirrored her position, quiet other than his breathing. She thought he’d fallen asleep again but when she turned on her aside, he was watching her, eyelids half-closed and drowsy. 

Feeling reckless, she inched towards him and placed an open palm to his chest. “Thank you.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Thank you?”

“For listening… for understanding.” 

His sleepy smile gave her the courage to rest against his shoulder, head nestled below his chin. Her favorite place. 

Stunned, he was immobilized for a minute, unmoving. Her arm wrapped around his waist in silent invitation. He accepted rather quickly and drew closer, snuggling her in his embrace. She had to hire back a moan when his fingers played with her hair, stroking from root to tip. 

The comforting warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, and the gentle touch of his fingertips soothed her instantly, the waning storm a distant memory. 

But just as her eyes drifted shut, they popped open again. “Mulder?”

“Hm?” 

“Earlier, you said everyone has a fear… what’s yours?” She asked, then added: “And don’t even think about saying ‘losing you’ or anything of the sort.”

He answered straight away. “Bugs.”

“Bugs?” She giggled, unable to stop herself. “That’s it?”

“Hey, no laughing,” he chided lamely, laughing along with her. “Besides, I told you before, remember? Killer cockroaches? And-”

“Bambi, I remember. Vividly.” The sneer in her voice was evident. Her jealousy was difficult to hide when it came to Mulder. It still was; the sudden pang in her heart was unavoidable when Diana or any of the other women in his life entered her mind. 

“She had nothin’ on you, Scully,” he muttered, low and sincere. “But that's not what I was going to say. I told you I hated insects back then but I wasn’t being entirely truthful… because I am afraid of insects.”

She suppressed a giggle. “I’ll be sure to protect you if we ever encounter another bug infestation.”

“I know you’re messing with me but I appreciate the sentiment.” He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. Then another. She missed the contact instantly. “Think you can sleep now?”

“Mhm,” she hummed into his chest, already dozing off. 

When she woke up the following morning, well rested and content, she felt free.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder, still navigating he and Scully’s rekindled romance, offers his comfort during a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this really doesn’t have much to do with the first chapter other than her proposed fear of storms. I needed an excuse to write some S11 cuddling and I didn’t want to post it as it’s own story. Set post-Ghouli, pre-Rm9. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it anyway!

His phone was ringing. Fogged with residual sleep, it took him a second to realize the shrill sound was coming from the phone on his nightstand and not a figment of his imagination. 

He fought with the blankets tangled around his legs and fumbled to unplug the device. The noise ceased as soon as he could see who tried to contact him at two in the morning. When he saw Scully’s name, he cursed into the empty room. She rarely called at this time of night unless it was an emergency.

Dialing her number back immediately, she picked up on the first ring.

“Mulder?” 

“Sorry, my damn charger’s too short. I couldn’t get to it quick enough. Are you okay?” he asked, worried she may be in trouble. 

Her voice was small, embarrassed even. “Um, yeah. I’m okay. Have you heard the storm?”

He froze, listening intently and hearing the pounding on the roof and the rumbles of thunder off in the distance. Oh, shit. This hasn’t happened in quite a long time and wasn’t sure how to handle it, given the awkward nature of their relationship.

“I hear it, Scully. Do you wanna talk? Or just listen to _ me _talk until it passes?” 

His lighthearted attempt to calm his own frazzled nerves fell flat, the line silent on her end as she considered his question.

“Can I come over? I’ll sleep on the couch if you want but I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered, almost inaudible through the static and sheets of rain pelting the windows.

He shook his head, amazed with the way she pushed him away again. After their night in Henrico, combined with the brief contact they had with their son, she _ still _ assumed he wouldn’t want her in his bed. _ Their _bed. With him. 

“Of course, Scully,” he answered. “Are you safe to drive?” 

A faint laugh caught him off guard. “That’s the thing….” A sharp knock on his front door startled him. “I’m already here.”

He held the phone with his shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time. Maybe he didn’t give her enough credit; she assumed (correctly) that he would say yes and waited to call him until she was faced with his front door. This was significant progress.

Scully was a pitiful sight to behold, leaning against the wall and soaked through her pajamas. Her white running shoes were caked with mud from her trudge up the driveway. It seemed she didn’t even think to throw on a jacket on her way to her car.

“Jesus, Scully. Come in,” he pulled her inside and helped free her feet from their sopping wet prison. No socks. Her pink-painted toes were bared to him. “Let’s go upstairs and get you some dry clothes.”

“I don’t have to—I mean, I can wait here.” She was flustered, brows furrowed and flushed. 

“Don’t be silly.” He reached for her hand, tugging gently. “Come.” 

The second he handed Scully a pair of her old sweatpants he found stuffed in the closet and one of his oversized shirts to wear, she excused herself to the bathroom. It’s been about fifteen minutes and he was beginning to worry. While he could hear her footsteps, the cabinet door slamming shut and water running, the faint sniffling he detected alarmed him. It could be a result of walking in the rain without a coat or socks on, but he suspected another reason. 

“Scully-”

She cleared her throat. “Just a second.”

He busied himself with straightening out the bed; fluffing the pillows on _ her _side and arraigning the covers. In his haste, he had flung the bedding every which way, most of it ending up in a heap on the floor. Once that was done, he made one last trip down the rickety old stairs to double check the locks and fill a glass with water for Scully. She woke during the night for a sip of water.

Latching the door, yet another thing she did every night, he was startled to see her standing beside his nightstand, picture frame in hand. She studied it intently, hand covering her mouth. 

“I love that picture.” It was taken during their trip to Bermuda after his exoneration. Before ‘selfies’ were all the rage and smartphones dominated the market, he took an old school disposable camera to commemorate their vacation. This picture in particular, was his favorite. They never developed the images, camera lost to him until he came across it one day after she left, sitting on the floor of their closet. He took it to CVS that day, framed the one he liked best and kept it where he would see it when he woke up in the morning. He and Scully laying in a lounge chair, close and smiling. 

“We look so young,” she said wistfully.

“Ten years ago,” he chuckled, taking a couple steps in her direction. “You’re still beautiful, Scully. Always will be, I’m sure.”

She scoffed then winced when a loud crack of thunder reminded them of the incoming storm. He quietly nudged her towards the bed, taking the picture from her hand.

“You can sleep here, I’ll take the couch if you’d be more comfortable.” He was ready to give her the space she needed. Calling her bluff, he made his way to the door. 

Halfway there, she stopped him. “Stay.” 

He turned.

“Please.” 

Unable to deny her anything, he obliged. 

It was surreal, having Scully back in the bedroom they once shared. He often envisioned this moment, when his medication wasn’t working and his therapist warned him about his unhealthy habits. He replayed the same scene over and over in his head, praying she’d come waltzing back. 

And now she was here, laying on her side, watching his every move. He mimicked her position, waiting for a sign, any signal she needed something other than his presence. Scully kept her emotions hidden behind a carefully constructed mask, one that’s taken him over twenty years to crack. She had these subtle giveaways in her facial expressions and tone of voice he learned to decipher her inner thoughts. Tonight, it was the detectable sadness in her voice and slight tremble of her lower lip when she spoke. She was afraid of thunder, yes, but something else hid behind the fear and he wasn’t sure how to coax it out of her.

He touched her hand resting on the mattress between them, fingertips grazing her knuckles. Her skin was chilled. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”

She nodded, a shy smile awarding him a glimpse of pearly-white teeth. “Can you hold me?”

So she hasn’t forgotten. “You already know the answer to that one, Scully.” He opened his arms in offering. 

They met in the middle, bodies flush against each other. This is how he liked to cuddle: chest to chest, arm locked behind her, hand stroking her back. He tucked her head underneath his chin and left a lingering kiss to her damp hair. 

“Thank you, Mulder.” 

“It’s what I’m here for.” He swallowed thickly. “Always. You know that right?”

She seemed to soften, the tension he felt when she climbed into bed evaporated. Apparently, he said the right thing to soothe her tattered nerves. The storm forgotten, she pulled away and met his gaze. 

“I do,” she affirmed, cupping his jaw. Her gaze drifted to his lips, bringing him back to their first encounter in Henrico. She had made the first move then, leaning over and scratching his stubbled jaw with her nails. 

She kissed him before he understood what was happening. He was powerless to stop her, the feel of those warm and supple lips parting his own undid him. He returned her kisses, eliciting a hushed moan from Scully. The tilt of her head and silky smooth tongue licking his lips jolted him out of the hypnoses he was under. 

Breaking free from her lips, he was breathless. “What are we doing here, Scully?” 

Noses touching, neither of them made an effort to move. Their rapid breaths mingled together, the soft sensation against his face making him shiver from the intimacy. 

He felt rather than saw her shrug. “I miss you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m right here… and forgive me, but I have to say I’m confused.”

“Confused?” She pulled away then. He was back to saying the wrong thing.

He sighed, preparing for the inevitable fallout. This was not how he expected to question their status, he only meant to help her sleep. He saw them waking up in the morning and continuing on as normal until he found the right words. Or until Scully gave him a definitive signal.

“I’m here, Scully. _ Right _ here. I’m not going anywhere but I can’t help but feel like _ you _might,” he admitted, deciding he was going to go for broke. Might as well just bite the bullet. “It’s always one step forward and three steps back with you. You come to me for comfort and we end up having sex—twice. Then we carried on, like that night never happened.”

“Mulder-”

There was no stopping him now. “Look, I’m not placing the blame solely on you and I’m not saying we have to jump back into a romantic relationship. It just seemed like that’s where we’ve been headed these past couple of weeks… but you’re so distant. I’m going crazy here, Scully, waiting for you to give me some kind of sign,” he softened his voice, down to a mere whisper and said: “Anything that tells me I still have a real shot with you.”

Scully sniffled, her eyes clouded with unshed tears. “You do, Mulder. You do have a shot with me. How could you ever doubt that?” 

A mirthless snort escaped him. “You’re not exactly an open book and let’s not forget, I’m notoriously dense when it comes to love and romance.” 

“You _ know _me. I need time to think… to process. That shouldn’t be news to you,” she said, fiddling with the blanket. 

“It’s not… and I wouldn’t pressure you,” he tipped her chin up, “I want us again, Scully. I’m ready and willing to go to the ends of the earth again to prove it to you.”

Her frown turned into a watery smile, a few stray tears leaking down her rosy cheeks. “Not necessary. Neither of us needs another wild adventure at this point in our lives.”

“How about dinner then?” he asked with a self-conscious grin. “I didn’t exactly follow through with my promise the last time and I’d like to redeem myself if you’re interested. Tomorrow night work for you?”

“I’d like that, Mulder.”

They exchanged contented smiles and in perfect harmony, reached for one another, settling into their earlier position. Stress and uncertainty gone, they relaxed into the embrace, finally peaceful.

“I think the storm has passed.” _ In more ways than one _, he thought. 

She burrowed further into the skin of his chest. “It has.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s just pretend their weird little dinner date at the beginning of Rm9sbG93ZXJz didn’t happen (even though it was adorable) and say Mulder succeeded in taking her out on a romantic dinner. 
> 
> That’s the end of my ramblings. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know Scully didn’t show any signs of fear in The Rain King. Thunder could be heard during the rain dance scene but I’d ask you to just go with it for the sake of this piece of fiction. And please ignore my half-assed ending. I can be on a roll when I’m writing and hit a brick wall towards the end.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
